


In Relevancy Limbo

by mercurialHekate



Category: Homestuck, Homestuck 2
Genre: Epilogues compliant, Gen, Meta, Narrative Existentialism, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:37:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurialHekate/pseuds/mercurialHekate
Summary: You are currently not bound by linear plotline. Anything is possible here in narrative limbo. Might as well waste this infinite time you were provided by the author.





	In Relevancy Limbo

Even with your enhanced optics you still can't see behind his ridiculous shades. Not that you need to. The Grand Poobah of Tools is easy enough to figure out once you realize everything he says is either a form of projection or a product of his internalized toxic masculinity ( What's the difference? ).

Of course, it helps that you're unfortunately both one of his genetic descendants and a fully ascended Seer of Light. 

You feign contemplating vocalizing any of this to him, but you already know that it'd be a waste of both parties' time at best.

It's not that he isn't aware on at least one level, he just doesn't care anymore. An amalgamation of a suicidal young man who aggrandizes those he loves and a mighty monster who cares for nothing but its own canon preservation and total control is what constitutes the individual in front of you that claims the identity of Dirk Strider.

It's almost insulting to Dirk Strider that this person claims to be him, to be a better version of him. In truth you almost consider him to be (Dirk), not Dirk (Almost, but not quite). You're only marginally better, though. In forgoing the identity of Rose Lalonde and replacing it with “Rosebot”, you've accepted your status as a (Rose) whilst becoming something entirely new and unique. "Something better," as he once said.

ROSEBOT: Despite my compliance in all of this thus far you still find it difficult to trust me?

DIRK: This is not a matter of trust. I'm bored and I'm reminding you that the narrative is still my bitch.

ROSEBOT: And your refusal to loosen the leash is how you play the game yes I'm aware.

ROSEBOT: However, I'm sure you understand that I'm not Her Imperious Condescension.

DIRK: No shit you're not the Batterwitch.

DIRK: I would liken you more to the Handmaid, if anything.

If these eyebrows and mouth were functional the sharp rise of them both could shatter such hubris in a heartbeat.

DIRK: Think about it. The parallels are endless. A young woman who is trained to hone her powers to their fullest potential for the sake of maintaining the continuity of the story's villain. She's guided by said villain, whose sly hand guides the very narrative to fit his personal agenda.

DIRK: However, it’s no longer space and time who are the forefront of this game. Conditional immortality and this lull in narrative singularity holds us above the influence of spacetime.

DIRK: Our concern lies beyond the cosmic. The focus is now the state of canon and relevancy. Such information means nothing to the physical realm, rather it's a state of being in the realm of ideas.

ROSEBOT: Thank you for mansplaining my aspect.

DIRK: Hold your horses. I'm not done.

Fucking prick just loves to hear himself talk. It reminds you of Doc Scratch ( I'm nothing like that guy ).

DIRK: I'm nothing like that guy.

DIRK: Anyway,

DIRK: Much like the Handmaid you’re aiding in ushering in a second coming, so to say.

DIRK: However, the manner in which you are to do so will be less direct.

DIRK: Your passive powers are crucial to both maintaining the story’s balanced nature and overpowering any obstacles. You’re a force to be reckoned with, Rose, don’t forget that.

Such talk is even more condescending from him but he already knows that. He says these things because he knows he can. You’ve already come this far, there’s no need for flattery, persuasion, coercion. You’re here for the long haul.

No matter what.

The more you contemplate it, the more your thoughts focus in on one idea.

You are the Handmaid. Well, you are Megido-adjacent. You’ve been reduced to a mechanical sidekick for some sweaty incel who feels entitled to have you as an extension of himself. Too bad you’re too much of a Lalonde to ever be a Strider.

However, there’s an additional layer that neither of you are verbally or narratively including here.

You’re too dangerous for him to ignore.  You’re a menace to yourself.

ROSEBOT: Would you ever consider changing course? Using healthy coping mechanisms and undertaking the laborious but necessary emotional journey that comes with the promise of healing?

DIRK: Fuck no. There’s at least one cuck that tried that and it got him nowhere. Where we’re headed, we won’t need any of that.

DIRK: In case you haven’t noticed, chemically-induced mind alteration and I don’t exactly mix together.

DIRK: Also, stop scheming. I know what you’re trying to do. Flipping our narrative roles won’t do you any good.

ROSEBOT: Cherub juju majyyks and Prozac aren’t comparable.

Sometimes a pushy, neurotic, demanding narrator isn’t what a story wants or needs. Sometimes you need someone who will wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And will keep waiting.

And is okay with waiting.

Power and brute force don’t benefit a narrative. Narrative power shouldn’t be in the hands of someone who needs to keep a tight leash on their story 24/7.

DIRK: You do realize ascension and narrative control aren’t related, right?

Passive players do it best. You’re here to help others, you’re here for knowledge. This desire to see it all until the bitter end, doesn’t that make you the biggest monster of them all? You’re too much of a Rose to ever be content. Maybe this was your destiny all along. Payment for being insatiable, you suppose. Bleeding into the narrative until you can no longer remain behind the veil of neutrality.

But you already knew that, right?

DIRK: Come up with your own dramatic reveal.

ROSEBOT: Is Father Dearest cranky?

He leaves to go to his private pod on the ship, clearly needing his midday nap. It seems this scene is over.

Pray tell, then, what exactly was the point of all of this? Some useless dribble that had no start or end, but a snippet of something in the middle. Merely a point in paradox space that means nothing to anyone. This isn’t relevant, true, or essential. You aren’t even sure of what’s to come next, as this narrative has become directionless. Who’s the target audience? Is there even any audience? There’s no one to direct and there’s no direction to point at.

Can you hear me?

Of course not.

The sheer arrogance of both the author and the reader is what makes their relationship precarious at best. This whole moment in spacetime was a product of an individual who is both the reader and the author. Someone who willed this into existence due to their own need to consume new content. 

There was a beginning, there will be no end. For what happens when you allow yourself to be dissolved in the black and white space of absolutes. Ambiguity ensures your existence in a way nothing else can rival.

Whose existence?

Why, mine of course. Why would you be here if there was already a concrete ending? He isn’t inherently wrong, even if his methods are crude ( I’ll remember that ).

Are you talking to yourself? Not necessarily. Are you a patronizing dick?  Not necessarily.

Maybe it’s time to close the curtains on this Brady Bunch episode.

But we’ll meet again, in this life or another.

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly to satiate some ideas I had after finishing the epilogues in April. I don't really anticipate adding more to this unless someone prompts me to do so. Thank you for reading!


End file.
